She wriggled against his question and her unwieldy conscience. Wished for once it wasn’t so strong. At present, it felt like an elephant sitting on her chest, squishing her into submission. “We’d love you to join us.”
He smirked bigger than Flora and riveted Meadow with a gently humorous look that told her she wasn’t fooling anyone with her stiff-as-concrete statement.
Meadow stabbed her finger at his chair. “Just sit.”
Still clutching his bag as he pulled out the chair to sit, he grinned full, as did Flora. Meadow narrowed eyes at both of them. If mental snickers were a thing, they’d be masters at it.
Flora leaped up. “Oh, forgot! Need to meet Pete for lunch.”
“You have lunch here.” Meadow panicked at thoughts of being alone with Colin and the muddy past they shared. She felt like yanking Flora back down. “Sit.”
“Nah, you two enjoy yourselves. Just stick this in the fridge. Thanks, Colin!” Flora waved and dashed out the door before they could protest, plunge their bodies in her locomotive path, or beat her outside.
“Well.”
“Well.”
Meadow sighed. “This ranks a sturdy ten on the Awkward Moments Richter scale.”
“Yeah.” He pointed a fork at her plate, filled with flat-leaf parsley, red wine vinegar, romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, capers, black olives, oregano, and onions, topped with olive oil and crumbled cheese. “Dig in. It’s Greek salad. Hope you still like it.”
Still? “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I remember. You used to bring it at lunch.”
In high school.
She set down her fork. Peered at him while white-knuckling the table edge.
He was not, not, not bringing this up, was he?
He didn’t meet her gaze.
Cleared his throat. Straightened his fork. Furrowed his brow. Shifted in his seat. Re-straightened his fork. Cleared his throat again. Then again.
Crud. He was either bringing it up, or he was choking to death on fear and feta cheese. Since he wasn’t turning blue, she supposed he was about to bring “it” up.
“If you intend to excavate the awful past, Colin, I’d appreciate a warning first.”
He looked up now and leveled her gaze with his. “Why, so you can flee?”
“I’ve got too much else to think about right now without dredging it up. I realize you may feel a need to hash it out, but I just can’t right now.”
“Understandable.”
“Good.” She plunged her fork into the delectable-smelling dish.
“So we’ll take a rain check with this discussion.”
She crunched the salad. Hard. She needed to escape the confusing way he made her feel. Half of her actually wanted to hear what he had to say.
The crazy half.
She inhaled several more bites, then made a show of looking at her replacement phone, provided by the cell company this morning. “Oh, the time! I should go see Del.”
He finished chewing and started gathering their trash. “Del?”
Meadow didn’t figure Colin knew Del by her nickname. Deloris Delafuente went by Del to friends and family. As a teacher, she’d wanted students to call her “Miss D.” Colin had been in her home economics class the same time as Meadow, but to tell him Del was Miss D would resurrect a past she’d rather keep buried.
“Del’s my catering partner. She wasn’t feeling well last weekend, called in sick Monday—unheard of for her. Today she was admitted to the hospital after pain sent her to the ER.”
“What do they think is wrong?”
“Not sure yet, but if you don’t mind, I need to skip out.” Relief hit that she was about to be rid of him. She poked through her phone until she found her navigation app. “Do you know the address of Havenbrook’s new veterans’ hospital? It only recently opened, and I haven’t ventured to that end of town in years.”
“It’s near your old neighborhood.”
Drat. His shrewd look and compassionate cadence revealed he knew she avoided that part of town because memories of her parents’ house were too painful to confront.
“I’ll drive you.”
What? No way was she getting in his truck with him. Memories rebounded of being left at the lake by him and his friends. “Not necessary.”
“Or desired? GPS will take you to a field behind the hospital. I know from experience.” He displayed his thumb, which she’d noticed earlier boasted a bandage. “Nail gun incident this morning.”
She couldn’t stop her sharp intake of air. “On my roof?” He’d been working late, using flood lamps, then rising early to start again. Had fatigue contributed to the accident?
He looked irritated with himself for mentioning it. “Maybe.”
“Colin, let me see—”
He put his hand behind his back. “It’d be easier for me to take you than direct you through confusing mazes of road construction.”
“Sure, change the subject off your injury.” That she was having this much compassion for the creature irked her. “Wait, you’re a veteran?”
He nodded. “I was also a contractor in Afghanistan. Rebuilt schools, hospitals, orphanages, and other war-damaged buildings.”
“That’s incredibly brave, Colin.”
She made up her mind.
“Thank you for driving.”